The Very Secret Diaries
by Strop
Summary: Dear Diary: Have been kidnapped by giant space robots from outer space. Would be v. offended but one of them is v. pretty, which makes up for it, almost. Am having a wonderful time and am probably going to die. Go me!
1. Chapter 1

a grand total of 0% of this is meant to be taken seriously, and as they say, it's all downhill from here.

* * *

 _Dear Diary:_

Have been kidnapped by giant space robots from outer space. Given that sudden and unexpected turn of events would leave mother scandalized and members of school's science fiction club envious, have decided to place current emotional state somewhere in the range of pleasantly concerned. Would be v. offended otherwise, as was in the middle of an important project, but one of aforementioned robots is v. pretty, which makes up for things, almost.

Would like to note that pretty one is pretty in the same way that sharks are, or v. sharp knives, and so will still attempt to avoid out of concern for own well-being.

Am being kept on top of what am assuming is a table. Giant space robots did not presume to restrain me, assuming would not risk life and limb attempting to jump fifteen feet to floor. They are right, but will not admit this. May consider investing in grappling hook in future. Am not sure how practical grappling would be to transport, but will all be worth it if kidnappings become a trend. Am sincerely hoping kidnappings do not become a trend. Am very definitely hoping that failure to trend is not on account of my untimely death. Death by giant space robot is not worst possible way to go, but would be v. disappointing. Body would never be found. Mother would assume I have run off to other side of country to pursue career as starving artist. Science fiction club will jokingly assume alien capture; will never learn that they are right. V. sad. Science fiction club is mostly a bunch of tossers.

Current observations so far: table is grey. Walls also. Floor slightly darker shade but otherwise the same. V. many blinking lights in various corners w/ no clear purpose. Would love to have conversation w/ giant space robots' interior decorator. May have them design evil lair, in unlikely event that I ever acquire one. Will be sure to remind them to make it small enough. Grandiose palaces v. impressive but not v. practical when you cannot even reach the handle of your front door.

Hear sound of footsteps. Will report later, hopefully not posthumously.

* * *

Wonder how long I have actually been gone, since lack of windows makes it difficult to measure passage of time. Considered asking one of giant space robots, but decided against it. Mooks do not seem sort to possess timepieces. Do however possess v. spiffy purple paint job. Are all robots so stylish?

Would check phone, but phone is smarmy shitbasket and refuses to tell any time but 1: 25 AM at all hours. Should really get repaired. Later.

Have been informed that my pitiful human brain contains invaluable information, which is to be somehow extracted at a point in near future. Knew touching strange objects floating in the middle of woods was bad idea. Looking directly into strange light even worse idea. Will never touch anything again in case it turns out to be alien trap. That'll show them.

Giant space robots refuse to answer questions. Pretty one particularly pissy. Seems sort to benefit from anger management counselor. Did not attempt to offer services, as have no experience in field of psychology and also am not an idiot, I mean really. However, have managed to glean that pretty one is in charge, mostly. Spiffy purple mooks have flung about terms "commander" and "lord." Second appears to result in more positive, if incredibly smug, reaction. Will remember for use in future conversations, if any.

Am hoping that so-called extraction will not involve dissection. Do not fancy having guts spread out across fifteen-foot-high table for amusement of onlookers, particularly when said onlookers do not likely have guts of their own. Does not seem fair to do to me what future generations may not do to them in my final act of vengeance. Also, giant space robots do not seem sort to have anesthetic suitable for humans. Will try v. hard not to think about this fact. Will think about pretty one instead. Am beginning to wonder about stability of current mental state, on account of such intrusive thoughts and also fact that have not screamed at all within past several hours. Lack of panic v. concerning, esp. in face of potentially imminent death.

Am sure it will pop up later at suitably inconvenient time.

Wonder how robots feel about interspecies relationships.

* * *

 _Dear Diary:_

Slept on table. Was v. cold and v. uncomfortable. Thrill of robot kidnapping beginning to lose its luster. Woke w/ taste of metal in mouth, found that had bitten tongue in sleep. Cannot fathom why. Hope giant space robots do not care about bloodstains. Considering they may dissect me, probably not. Wonder what color their blood is, provided they have any.

Table, floor, walls same color as yesterday. Am so bored. This is worse than mother's book club. Am going back to sleep. Will bleed on everything out of spite.

* * *

Woken by poking. Spiffy mooks notoriously absent, but pretty one returned and brought a friend, who apparently thinks nothing of prodding slumbering bipeds in their fleshy midsections on a whim. Am surprised was not skewered. Have slightly less degree of respect for pretty one's friend on account of this, but on account of him also being bit of a looker have decided to forgive.

Learned he is ship's medic and will be overseeing hypothetically delicate operation of picking apart my brain. Demanded details of information contained within, on account of if I am going to die horribly I may as well know reason why. Medic made smarmy remark about how if information was known, extraction would not be required, and that I should count myself lucky to even be part of what is bound to be recorded as a miracle of modern medical science. Felt v. miffed. Pretty one made several disparaging remarks before departure. Felt slightly less miffed.

Wonder how robots feel about polygamy.

* * *

Successfully engaged lone spiffy mook in brief conversation. Go me! Learned that pretty one is named Starscream, smarmy medic named Knockout. Will continue to refer to as pretty one and smarmy medic for now, on account of descriptors being infinitely more amusing than anything giant space robots might come up with. Am wondering how anyone with such ridiculous names can ever take themselves seriously. Am wondering whether someone decided Starscream's name before or after he spoke. Suspect latter. May be v. pretty but also had v. shrill voice. Oh well. Cannot all be perfect.

Spiffy mook did not explain much more, on account of being ever-so-slightly repulsed by my lack of metal plating. Have overheard self referred to as "fleshie" on more than on occasion. Do not relish the title but then again anything is better than Starscream.

Am beginning to feel v. hungry.

More later.


	2. Chapter 2

ok but let's be real here who _wouldn't_ want to show up in front of safeway in an f-22. f-16. whatever i dont care.

* * *

 _Dear Diary:_

Will not be dissected. Go me! Will instead be subjected to relentless bouts of mind-fuckery via something referred to as a cortical psychic patch. Sounds v. much the sort of thing to be developed by mad space scientists and/or Bond villains. Smarmy medic seems v. much Bond villain material. Mentioned this in passing and was given comment about how newer films could have been better and should have contained more car chases. Car chases apparently vast improvement on typical human limb-flailing combat forms.

Honestly would not have pegged giant space robots as fans of human cinema to begin with. Go figure.

Attempted to explain to robots the concept of food. Am starving and only did not initially notice on account of being distracted by threat of imminent death and presence of vaguely pretty robots. Would kill for a sandwich or five.

Was informed that yes, they know what eating is, but really have no desire to receive in-depth descriptions of human digestive process. Have decided that in case of emergencies will prepare long speech on multiple human biological processes to be delivered as distraction. Will include all really gross ones. Even reproduction? _Especially_ reproduction. If was forced to sit through seven years of repetitive public school sex ed, then only fair that giant space robots receive same opportunity.

Smarmy medic has agreed to supervise grocery trip, on account of being one of few actually capable of tolerating and/or not accidentally murdering me, and as it would be v. suspicious to show up outside of Safeway in F-22. Technically considered a date? Pretty one seems jealous but maybe he is always like that.

(Adn: Would not nesc. _object_ to showing up outside of Safeway in F-22, but given closer consideration the whole thing is really v. silly.)

* * *

Smarmy medic refused to let me ride in driver's seat. What an ass. Was, on the other hand, v. particular about seatbelt safety. Suspect this is less out of concern for personal well-being and more on account of the fact that pretty one threatened him w/ evisceration if any "assets" were "damaged." Am v. fond of assets and would also prefer them not to be damaged, threat of evisceration or not. Am not entirely sure what assets actually are. Along w/ alien contents of brain, possibly smart mouth. Also possibly possession of bangin' rack, but do not think giant space robots are sort to care about that. I also do not care much for it. Glad to see we are in agreement about something, even if other half of that agreement is mostly result of own imagination.

Travel from ship to ground available via smth. aptly referred to as "ground bridge." Suspect it may be some sort of portable wormhole technology, in which case am both v. intrigued and v. afraid. Would love chance to inquire after method of operations but suspect would not understand much of it anyways, and doubt answers would be forthcoming to begin with. Also wondering abt. current state of own atoms. Have not collapsed into heap of sludge so assume everything fine.

While at grocery store considered fleeing through back exit, but am notoriously bad at sneaking and do not think that requesting access to employee-only areas can be done in an inconspicuous manner. Would not want to get police involved, as human law enforcement is probably ill-equipped to deal with giant space robots and their massive fucking laser cannons. (Adn: Smarmy medic actually possesses massive fucking buzz saws. Do not think human law enforcement could deal with that either. Do not think anyone is really capable of dealing with that. Would not want to deal with it myself, personally. Have seen what regular-sized buzz saws can do to people. Am never taking another shop class again.)

Also did not know actual location, as could have been any Safeway, really. Cannot afford taxi fees. Taxi fees more expensive than groceries.

Purchased non-perishable food items that will hopefully last a week w/ rationing. Mostly bread. Would probably get fat but fear v. good for burning calories. Also several gallons of water as would be v. bad to have all necessary foodstuffs only to die of dehydration. Cashier joked abt. preparing for the apocalypse. Did not attempt to deny it. Would not be surprised if giant space robots attempt to initiate doomsday somewhere along the line. Seems to be the sort of thing that would be right up pretty one's alley.

Adn to previous entry: Do not know how robots feel about polygamy. Smarmy medic laughed when asked and refused to say more. Am sure will mention this to other robots behind my back, the gossipy bitch. Suspect it would never work out anyways, as smarmy medic appears to already have some sort of boyfriend slash husband slash partner in crime. Will have to aim for pretty one instead. Am fine with this, as am still stuck on mental image of showing up places in an F-22. Would save so much on gas money. Sci-fi club would be so jealous. Both v. much worth it.

* * *

Still living on table, but now have adequately-sized pile of consumables. Smarmy medic seems reasonably tolerant of my presence at this point. Have probably progressed beyond mook level. Progress! Have also attempted to get on pretty one's good side by complimenting plating. Am not sure which human organ this corresponds to but suspect it is wrong one. All came out v. awkward and jumbled anyways. Am not v. good at flattery. Will try for wings next time.

Pretty one is definitely jealous. Hope he is not the murderous lover type. V. high probability.

 **Sandwiches consumed:** 3\. V. good!

 **Potential sandwiches remaining:** 7\. If current rate of consumption continues, will run out of fillings v. soon, and do not relish thought of eating plain bread for three days. Will use as excuse for more dates/grocery trips.

Adn: Mostly was just relieved to see sunlight again. Called mother and said I was taking week off to go camping with friends, lack of communications shouldn't worry her. Went to voicemail but maybe that for the best. Am trying not to think too much about it.

* * *

 _Dear Diary:_

Stuck on ship w/ pretty one while Knockout and boyfriend-husband attend to enemy skullcrushing duty. Complimented wingspan and hypothetical airspeed velocity. Much more successful than last time. Go me! Wonder how far I will have to take this relationship before it is acceptable to ask for joyrides.

 **Sandwiches consumed:** 2\. Still hungry.

Pretty one seems v. concerned abt. state of superior officer, called Megatron, who appears to be basically dead. Do not think return will be much threat to his prettiness, but can never tell. On other hand, suspect return may be threat to my personal well-being, as is apparently the sort who does not appreciate things being carried on being his back. May be in best interest to assist in any/all plots to keep Megatron under. Proposed murder scheme, which briefly seemed to please, before being torn full of holes that of course would never have been able to consider on account of being stuck on a _table_ all day. Am v. glad had journal w/ me or otherwise would probably die of boredom and also go quite mad.

Also used opportunity to request different living conditions, or at least chance to move around rest of ship. If am going to be here for a while would at least like to know the run of things. Pretty one seemed averse to idea but then grumbled about having nothing better to do. Told me to wait for his return. Mentioned that as am still on table am really incapable of doing much else other than waiting. May be outmatched in any sort of fight but refuse to be out-snarked.

* * *

Riding wooden roller coaster at local theme park has been dropped down to second most terrifying experience of life in exchange for being carried around ship by giant space robot. 10/10 would not recommend. Was constantly convinced that pretty one would lose his grip and send me plummeting to an untimely death by spaceship floor. Am even more certain that several times it seemed abt. to happen were deliberate. Wonder if this is payback for being smartass. Will continue to be smartass anyways.

Will also not deny that was v. interested in everything. Could not read screens for shit, but that to be expected on account of I am not a giant space robot and cannot be expected to understand their bizarre giant space robot language. Which, incidentally, looks like sort of thing that would make excellent conscript. Could use as reference and no one in science fiction club would ever know. Possible project?

Caught glimpse of third non-mook space robot from a distance, but pretty one was reluctant to approach, possibly on account of third robot's noodle arms. Do not blame him. Would also be reluctant to approach robot w/ noodle arms. Noodle-arms' name is Soundwave. May continue to refer to as noodle-arms on account of he givesme the willies and noodle-arms is much less threatening name. Would like to note that also had no proper face. Am so glad that I will have no trouble sleeping tonight. At all.

Tour cut unfortunately short after made the mistake of asking to see Megatron. Think I am lucky that spine was not broken. Pretty one needs to watch his grip.

 **Sandwiches consumed:** 1, due to stress.

Am going to ask Knockout more about Megatron thing, when he comes back.


	3. Chapter 3

entry no. 2 should contain way more question marks than it actually does, but because the site's formatting is an unforgiving mistress you don't get to enjoy them D:

* * *

 _Dear Diary:_

Do. _Not_ think brain is meant. To be prodded at like that. Not prodded literally but. Something w/ waves. Hope they will not attempt to read mind in future. Would be v. embarrassing. For all involved parties.

 **Sandwiches consumed:** 0\. Feeling v. nauseous. Do not think KO or pretty one would appreciate human vomit. I? Do not appreciate human vomit. Something in common!

Hng.

* * *

 _Dear Diary_ ,

Have reasonably recovered from whatever the hell yesterday's events were. Am choosing to refer to as yesterday on account of cannot remember anything aside from making a few notes and falling asleep. Maybe for the better. Brain definitely not meant to be prodded at like that, and hope will not need to happen again.

Will probably need to happen again.

Knockout attempting to modify psychic patch technology for human use. Do not know how successful this will be, considering size difference and also on account of fact that do not have entry port in back of skull. Do not think shoving needle into brain would be v. effective, and also do not want needle shoved into brain. Would prefer not to have needles shoved anywhere. Would really prefer to not be here at all, but that is moot point.

Learned that probably do not even have all information that was contained in artifact, as transfer was equivalent to shifting files from USB to floppy disk. Would require multiple floppy disks/brains to ensure complete transfer. Only had one. Not sure how feel abt. being compared to floppy disk but still better than being dead or vegetative. (Adn: term "floppy disk" not actually used but analogy is same.)

Managed to glean some info abt. Megatron from Knockout. Would be in charge if was not currently basically dead. Would probably also not object to my presence considering contents of brain. Am so glad that only thing currently keeping me alive is smth. I am incapable of accessing. Feel like knowing what I have banging around in skull would be invaluable bargaining chip in future. Will attempt to dig out later, somehow. Considering meditation but have never been v. good at sitting still for extended periods of time. Table-imprisonment not counted as have been either sleeping, pacing, or writing. Would have played phone games but do not want to squander battery power in case of emergency and also would not want to risk confiscation. Do not think is likely giant space robots would confiscate phone, on account of have no bars in ship anyways, but can never tell.

Aside from ship tour incident and brain nausea things mostly been v. quiet, figuratively. Guard posted outside door v. talkative. Unfortunately not towards me, or otherwise would have attempted interrogation. Would really like to know Starscream's deal. Knockout had comments but nothing v. descriptive. Would also like to know deal of things in general. Do not even know name of ship. Knowing not nesc. v. helpful but would help in unlikely event of impromptu rescue mission. On other hand, ship is v. distinct in appearance so is possible that when describing simply calling by name would actually be less helpful.

Someone coming. More later.

* * *

Visited by noodle-arms. Will continue to refer to as noodle-arms on account of still being thoroughly spooked. Did not do much, just stood by table for several minutes and stared. May have actually been worse than if had actually attempted to interact w/ me. Am not even sure if noodle-arms even capable of speech, as have not heard him and he does not appear to have proper mouth anyways. Is possible visor is just that and noodle-arms possesses regular features underneath. Do not want to consider alternative.

Not sure what prompted visit. Is possible was noticed w/ Starscream the other day and noodle-arms wished to investigate. Am beginning to think this v. likely as was mentioned he had eyes and ears everywhere. V. sketchy.

Did not attempt to speak to on account of was, as stated previous, v. much bothered. Do not think would have told me much anyways. Guard outside door v. quiet after departure. Am taking this as sure sign that noodle-arms bad news, as if Starscream's reaction not proof enough. Not sure why would trust his opinions in first place but have not got much else to go by and KO probably growing tired of constant questions. Would not want to damage what little rapport already have by making nuisance of self.

Have decided to list all current pressing Qs for future reference, anyways:

\- Name of ship?

\- Where giant space robots actually come from?

\- Why giant space robots on Earth to begin w/?

\- Possible enemies?

\- Noodle-arms' deal.

\- More abt. ground bridges.

\- SS's deal.

\- More abt. energon, psychic patches, tech in general.

\- Everyone has some sort of deal, would enjoy knowing them.

\- What actually in my head?

\- What happens after info extracted?

Last question most important. Ideal scenario involves release in manner that does not involve being dropped off side of ship, but considering current knowledge of giant space robots' existence do not know likelihood. Could always argue that no one will believe it anyways. Swear self to secrecy. Would probably never tell anyone important on account of really not fancying idea of being involved w/ giant space robots a second time. May remember shopping date fondly but little else.

Hear more footsteps in hall again. Hope it is KO.

* * *

Am shaking. Had to sit down v. quickly or otherwise think would have fallen down from shock. Handwriting v. jittery. Think am beginning to feel effects of all previously repressed fear and do not appreciate. Am considering crying but do not want anyone to walk in. Is possible might garner sympathy but also might not. Am already pathetic useless human anyways, would not want to make it worse.

Giant space robots capable of crying?

Will maybe add to list.

Current condition on account of noodle-arms' return. Did bit more than stand and stare second time around. Witnessed actual noodle arms up close and personal, do not think would like to witness again. Am v. appreciative of noodle-arms' aesthetic design but _only from a distance_. Located phone in pocket, had me place it on table. Used noodle arm to scan contents. Hope noodle-arms enjoys photographs of cats and twenty-seven spam text messages. Ha. Ha ha.

Should probably check phone for damages.

* * *

Phone fine. Owner not. Few photographs taken of ship interior deleted, nothing else changed. Does not matter, can take more.

Soundwave probably going to check again later, just in case.

Fuck it am going to cry.


	4. Chapter 4

haha what do you mean this has an actual _plot_

* * *

 _Dear Diary_ ,

Am not pleased. KO also not pleased. SS least pleased of all, but really cannot be bothered to care. Have been threatened with death, starvation, relocation, plus others. Pointless. Will not kill me on account of still needing me. Will probably starve me, but not indefinitely on account of starvation eventually having side effect of death. Do not think could possibly be demoted to position in ship worse than table, unless it is someplace under constant watch of noodle arms. If "watch" is right word; if is possible to watch something when have no eyes. This is v. uncomfortable train of thought so will stop.

Reason for above: attempted escape for first time.

Did not go so well.

Actually went terribly.

Am consoling self w/ fact that could probably also have gone much worse.

Second grocery run done at 24-hour food market in unrecognizable town, in middle of night. Weather v. cold and slightly snowy, half of labels in French. Suspect was in Canada. Farther from home than would have liked but at least was still within same continent. Was supervised by vehicon this time on account of KO being occupied w/ other projects. Ride out was v. quiet. Seatbelt safety still priority.

Store was small and darkness provided good cover, so figured would attempt to escape and hitchhike home, or at least to nearest airport. Also, robot mooks much less terrifying than KO when annoyed.

Am nothing if not resourceful, and did not think survival in Canadian backwater would be much more difficult than survival of giant space robot kidnapping. Managed to sneak out of back exit when cashier's back was turned, thankfully without tripping alarms. Continued down street quietly as possible. Do not know how effective giant space robot hearing is but did not want to test it at current point.

Walked maybe ten minutes before was hopelessly lost. Small Canadian town not nearly so small as expected. Lots of winding streets. Impossible to tell one from another in dark. Would have knocked on someone's door if could find residential district, but no luck. Buildings all offices and warehouses. Could not find suitable dumpsters, or might have hidden in those. Would have preferred to retain dignity, but am also fond of survival, even if side effects include being covered in garbage.

Wonder what would have happened if just hid out in 24-hour food mart for remainder of evening. Think maybe 24-hour-food mart would have been reduced to 24-hour smoking rubble heap, but will never know. Possibly for the best.

In retrospect would probably have frozen to death in dumpster. Cold and covered in garbage one of worse ways to go.

Ran into mook again by chance. Have v. bad luck. Attempted to run but obv. did not make v. far, as stride of 20-foot space robot covers much more distance than multiple strides of 5-and-a-half-foot Earth human. Was v. concerned for state of ribcage at multiple points during recapture. Have bruises now, but nothing serious.

On plus side, can now check "chased down half-exploded street by giant space robot" off of bucket list.

Lying. There is no plus side. Cannot believe mook decided best way to recapture was to shoot up street and surrounding buildings. Cannot stop thinking about damages and how small Canadian town will have to pay for them all. Am at least thankful no one else was hurt. Also, do not have bucket list, on account of do not appreciate using looming threat of death as motivation to accomplish things. Appreciate even less now that looming threat of death is closer than ever.

Wonder if I will be on the news.

Wonder if hoping for rescue is considered optimism or stupidity.

* * *

 _Dear Diary,_

Fate apparently decided is not done shitting on me. KO announced that cortical psychic patch impossible to redesign for humans, on account of, and quote, "Fleshies being so damned small." Still do not appreciate being referred to as fleshie. Still think anything is better than Starscream. Still trapped, still hungry. Food privileges have been effectively revoked for time being, so am attempting to conserve what little have left. Sleeping beginning to lose luster.

Think am beginning to slightly stir-crazy.

Consequences of cancellation of patch project unknown. Giant space robots will maybe try other methods, will maybe just kill me. Do not want to think about that. Do not know what else to think about. Reminiscing on past is pointless and also sad. Am determined not to cry again, unless is another bodily function KO is disgusted by, in which case will cry around him as much as possible. Do not think task will be v. difficult to accomplish. Not sure what outcome or point will be, but need some way of killing time, anyways. Mutual suffering always fun. Ha ha.

Read through previous entries to construct better frame of reference for current situation. Mentioned meditation as potential means of locating information within own brain, but did not attempt on account of claiming to not have patience. Would be willing to sit quietly in single spot for entire month if means will be able to get out of giant space robot hell. Am going to attempt. Will document results as relevant.

* * *

 **Attempt 1:** Failure.

Could not keep eyes closer for longer than five minutes, and was interrupted in middle by argument between mooks out in hall. Cannot possibly think what mooks would have to argue about, other than glossiness of paint jobs. Hate mooks.

* * *

 **Attempt 2:** Fell _asleep_.

Had v. weird dream involving noodle arms and spaghetti scene from animated film about dogs. Do not appreciate brain's attempt at irony, if even is irony. Hate brain. Hate noodle-arms. Am beginning to question what anyone actually achieves using meditation, other than developing desire to slam head against wall.

* * *

 **Attempt 3:** AAAAAAAAAAGH.

Frustration compromising ability to sit still. Cannot not think. Have decided writing is better way to organize thoughts than silent contemplation, which is turning out mostly a waste of time. Then again, does not matter. Have nothing but time to waste. Hate meditation. Hate everything.

For future record, here is brief transcription of events resulting in kidnapping by giant space robots in first place: went for walk in woods by college. Stumbled upon strange object hovering in mid-air. Was globular in shape, glowing slightly, appeared to consist of multiple interlocking parts, et cetera. Was most definitely alien. Was most definitely idiot move to touch w/out further confirmation of effects, but have always wanted to be like protagonists of teen sci-fi flicks. Just. Was mostly not expecting it to be like this. Do not think am cut out to be protagonist of anything, despite claims of ego. Would have died within first five minutes of Alien, despite actual aliens not appearing until at least half an hour in.

Am getting off topic. Maybe writing not such improvement on silent contemplation after all, but that is moot point.

Object opened after physical contact, released reddish beam of light in general direction of face. Suspect was either booby trap or safeguard to ensure information not acquired by wrong persons. Or maybe was just how object worked. Cannot be expected to fathom the whims of giant space robot technology, anyways. Blacked out briefly. Woke up on ground and was kidnapped shortly afterwards. Do not know current whereabouts of object but suspect is somewhere else on ship. Do not remember how information transfer felt. Mostly just remember headache.

Adn: would perhaps be possible to return information to object by touching again? Will mention to KO.

Do not feel like anything is more organized. Am going to try sitting again but do not have high hopes.

* * *

 **Attempt 4:** Headache.

Attempted to focus on exact point when object in woods released contents and remember how it felt, on account of reading somewhere once that certain memories can be "gateways" to subconscious. Suspect was all a load of tripe, but have given up caring by now. Will accept even most blatant of pseudosciences if will help figure things out.

Have acquired nothing but vague memories of unconsciousness and headache. Also, actual headache. Meditation mostly written down as failure.

Was not really expecting ͓̲/̷̦̩̯̰̆ͨ̉͗̒̃/͙͎̲̹͟-̅͗ͯ̀̂҉.̫̖̲͖̰̱̍͟.͙͙͖̻̼.̫̯̦̠̳̆ͦ̊͛ͤ'̼͎̔͑ͭͯ̃ͮ͆'͙̻̠͓̦̞̯͢/̓ͪ͗̈.͓̟̟̏̆-̬̳̯͎̯͕͔̉ͬ́̓ . anything else.


End file.
